"It's true enough," said Dave, coolly. "And when John Adams also adds that we have no clothing, no beds, no blankets, no medicines, and only salt pork and flour to eat and little o' these, why, he's right, too. Why not admit truth? Does it help to conceal it? Nenni, lads! It is best always to face it and endeavour to turn into a falsehood tomorrow what is disgracefully true today. "So when I tell you that in three months our Northern Army has lost five thousand men by smallpox, camp fever, bullets, and privation--that out of five thousand who remain, two thousand are sick, why, it's the plain and damnable truth. "But any soldier who loses sleep or appetite over such cursed news should be run through with a bayonet, for he's a rabbit and no man!" After a silence: "Who commands them now?" I asked. "Gates is to take them over at Crown Point, I hear." This news chilled me, for Schuyler should have commanded. But the damned Yankees, plotting their petty New England plots to discredit our dear General, had plainly hoodwinked Congress; and now our generous and noble Schuyler had again fallen a victim to nutmeg jealousy and cunning. "Well," said I, "God help us all in Tryon, now; for a vain ass is in the saddle, and the counsel of the brave and wise remains unheeded. Will Guy Carleton drive us south of Crown Point?" "I think so," said Ellerson, carelessly. "Then the war will come among us here in Tryon!" "Straight as a storm from the North, John." "When?" "Oh, that? God knows. We shall hold the lakes as long as we can. But unless we are reinforced by Continentals--unless every Colony sends us a regiment of their Lines--we can not hope to hold Crown Point, and that's sure as shooting and plain as preaching." "Very well," said I between clenched teeth, "then we here in Tryon had best go about the purging of that same county, and physic this district against a dose o' red-coats." Ellerson laughed and rose with the lithe ease of a panther. "I should be on my way to Albany," says he. "You tell me there are horses at the Summer House, John?" "Certainly." We shook hands. "You find Morgan's agreeable?" inquired Nick. "A grand corps, lad! Tim Murphy is my mate. And I think there's not a rifleman among us who can not shoot the whiskers off a porcupine at a hundred yards." And to me, with a nod toward my Oneidas: "They are painting. Do you march tonight, John?" "A matter of cleaning out a Tory nest yonder," said I. "A filthy business and not war," quoth he. "Well, God be with all friends to liberty, for all hell is rising up against us. A thousand Indians are stripped for battle on this frontier--and the tall ships never cease arriving crammed with red-coats and Germans. "So we should all do our duty now, whether that same duty lie in emptying barrack slops, or in cleaning out a Tory nest, or in marching to drum and fife, or guarding the still places of the wilderness--it's all one business, John."